


Sleeping Beauty & Coconut Rum

by cameronclaire



Series: Kingdom Cast [2]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, F/M, Family, Friendship, M/M, Summer, Vanitas the Motorcycle Stuntman, Ven the RA, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cameronclaire/pseuds/cameronclaire
Summary: Kairi has her way of recruiting friends to join her for summer employment at the most magical place on earth, and Vanitas has his.Ven and his twin brother went their separate ways their freshman year of college, and Ven’s life has become something of a snoozefest in Vanitas’ absence.Fortunately, Vanitas is back and ready to give Ven a much needed wake up call, (and hopefully score points with a Disney-bound Kairi in the process.)





	1. Camisado

**Author's Note:**

> AH. This is WAY longer than I meant for it to be! But I wanted to give my Disney World AU a bit of a backstory and I got carried away. So this is the 'how did they get there' bit.
> 
> Also, Ven is a Ventus and Roxas hybrid.
> 
> They will at some point actually get to disney world. Just not in this story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering, Where's  
> the apathy and urgency that I thought I phoned in?  
> Panic! at the Disco

Vanitas is used to the dirty looks that his studded leather jacket attracts. So as the pastel frat bros jog by on a breeze of spray-on cologne, he returns theirs with a glossy white smile that noticeably quickens their pace.

Granted, it could be that he’s leaned up against an actual fricking pillar, combat boots crossed in front of him, TØP blaring from the headphones around his neck, with his butt on the sign reading “Nomura Hall.” A living stain on the front patio of the postcard picturesque red brick dorm that Res Life booted him from freshman year.

It could be that he is doing this at the ungodly hour of six in the morning.

It could be that they are thinking that it is too damn early and too damn hot to be that much of a punk.

 _And they would be fucking correct_.

Sweat glues the white button down to his back, and he can smell the gel flattening his perpetually mussed hair melting like plastic.

_But it’s probably the jacket._

Vanitas usually has a retort to go with that look, the kind of thing that would, say, get him jumped and booted from a freshman dorm. But this morning he’s distracted, and he doesn’t need more trouble anyway. His phone keeps pinging, forcing his eyes to take in an unprecedented number of emojis.

**The Pink One: You in, Van?**

Prayer hands, kissy face emojis, winky emojis, sparkle emojis.

_This is the chick that beat my sorry ass with the bouquet I brought her when I was nine._

Vanitas feels a derisive chuckle die in his throat and powers down his phone without answering.

He closes his eyes, lets the drumbeat rattle his eardrums senseless until calm washes over him, and his pulse slows.

He makes a decision.

_Time to give sleeping beauty his wake up call._

The front door clicks as somebody pushes out of the dorm. A girl scowls as Vanitas gets up, but he just cocks an eyebrow at her, her rubber duck print pajama pants, and steps out of her way. She doesn’t hold the heavy, off-white painted door for him, and he lunges and just manages to stop it with his dinged up motorcycle helmet before it can slap shut. The girl shuffles blearily toward a dining hall, unaware.

Another ping. Vanitas swaps his helmet with his heel to keep the door propped open as he slides out his phone. He doesn’t read the message before tapping ‘reply’. Kairi’s texts give him a migraine.

 **I can’t say no to you,** he types back.

 _Time to work some not-so-Disney magic._

_Hi fucking ho, bitches._

 

Ventus clips the mirrored, magnetic name badge to the left breast of his lime green Wayfinder University resident assistant polo.

It’s the free one he got as part of a larger bribe to stay in the dorm all summer as an RA instead of catching his usual flight to his mother’s two-bedroom coastal apartment or retiring to his dad’s ranch style place, just forty minutes away, nestled in the endless cornrows of suburban Ohio.

But Ven hadn’t done it for the polo. He did it for the streak.

Ven wipes a fingerprint smudge from the badge and frowns at the shadows beneath his baby blue eyes in the mirror, not quite hidden behind the glasses that get him dubbed a hipster every time he makes the mistake of carrying around a latte.

With a final stroke of the fair stubble he doesn’t have time or willpower to shave, he pushes himself away from the closet and leans across his desk to mark “358” in permanent marker across the day’s date on his wall calendar.

358 days without getting fired. _My personal best._

_Of course it hardly counts, since Vanitas has only been back for two._

Ven sighs and circles the date, mid-May. 358. Over in two.

Tomorrow will be blank.

_Unless I tell the truth._

 

There’s a pounding on the door, a quick succession of strikes that can only be his twin brother or law enforcement. He can tell it’s Vanitas because it’s accompanied by _Panic!_ exploding from the headphones perpetually draping his neck and perpetually dialed up to maximum volume.

_You’re a regular, decorated emergency_

_The bruises and contusions_

_Will remind me what you did when you_

“Wake up, skater boy! If we’re late you can kiss your precious community showers good-bye.”

Grabbing his wallet, Ven’s gaze has dropped down to the cluster of framed family photos on his desk, next to a green, stained glass star. His eye catches on the one on the left. Everyone wears white karate robes and goofy grins. Fourteen-year-old Ventus and Vanitas proudly clutch the new black belts they had coveted practically since birth.

_Can’t take the kid from the fight,_

_Take the fight from the kid_

Their father, Master Eraqus, to his pupils, stands beaming in between them, a hand on each of their shoulders, while their older brother Terra with his beefy arms, and his super long term, just-get-engaged-already girlfriend Aqua with her choppy blue mom bob, sandwich the twins on either side, each holding up a muscled bicep.

_Just sit back, just sit back_

This all back before Vanitas’ motorcycle stunt YouTube channel took off. Before the groupies and the novice film crews and the endorsements and the tours. Before Ven became his cameraman. Before Ven quit being his cameraman. _Before._

The photo just to its right is one of those blurry roller coaster snapshot ordeals, a memento of Ven’s first and only trip to the Magic Kingdom. Taken at the peak of Splash Mountain, seconds before the drop. Purchased for the look of sheer horror on Terra’s face and glee on Ven’s. He’d had both arms up, a smuggled, slightly damp cotton candy in hand. Aqua’s seated between them, a vice grip on both of their shoulders, like she can single handedly protect them from the inevitable plunge.

Jutting slightly in front of this, the most recent photo, a Christmas present, the frame hand-decorated with small, white shells. The boys’ mother and youngest brother Sora lean together, facing away from the camera, toward the ocean, flower wreaths askew in their chocolate brown hair, arms deeply and permanently tan, surrounded as always by sunset and surf and sand.

_It's not so pleasant and it's not so conventional_

_It sure as hell ain't normal but we deal, we deal_

He sighs.

_You can take the kid out of the fight_

“Ventus!” Another set of door rattling knocks, like Vanitas is using his helmet instead of his fist.

Ven’s lip curls as he pockets the wallet he always drops beside the frames. _He had better not be knocking down all my door tags._

As he turns to go, Ven’s eyes wander to the well-worn skateboard collecting dust under his bed. A red, black, and white checkerboard relic of his high school self. Not unlike the thin silver ring piercing the right side of his lower lip. No amount of internal nagging could convince him to part with either.

_Not exactly Res Life approved, but heck._

_Hell._

_Fuck it._

He slides the board out with his foot, the music in the hall blaring louder, lyrics he used to scream sing from the back of one of Vanita’s crews’ pick-up.

 _What have I got left to lose?_   

_Because I can’t tell the truth._

 

Ven kicks up the skateboard and catches it, then crosses the room and swings open the door to meet his brother.

Vanitas looks a bit more like Sora than Ven, but the twins share a similar face shape and the same lean, muscular physique. Vanitas is a bit shorter and a bit stockier, but he struts like he’s 6’8, so it balances out.

The biggest crack in the mirror image is Vanitas’ hair, dyed jet black and permanently mussed into oddly angled spike-like tufts from his helmet. It’s a distant departure from Ven’s golden blonde, swept up to the front left like a model if you were being kind, or bedhead if you were not.

The biggest crack in the mirror image is Vanitas’ eyes. Their light brown irises glint an amber yellow in the sun, making them somehow less innocuous than Ven’s dark-lashed ice blue set when coupled with Vanitas’ trusty wicked smirk.

Ven catches Vanitas with his signature black and silver motorcycle helmet raised, poised to pound on the door again.

“Chill, sunshine.” Ven claps his brother on the shoulder and slips his door shut, before Vanitas can freak out about how orderly his room is now. “You’re going to wake up all of my residents.”

 _Former_ _residents?_

Vanitas slides him a wry smile and ticks up the music to an ungodly decibel. “Least of our problems. Let’s go, loser.” He pushes the helmet into Ven’s arms. “Expulsion or bust.”

Ven shakes his head, and follows Vanitas toward the stairs. “I missed you, Van.”

Vanitas chuckles and gives the helmet and Ven a playful shove. “Yeah, you did.”

 

While Ven spent most of his high school summers on Destiny Island getting into mischief with Sora and his friends, and the rest in rural Buckeye country shadowing Terra and Aqua as they taught half-pint warriors in Master Eraqus’ dojo, Vanitas spent his training.

Master Eraqus had a pal from college named Gregory who would come around once every few years to reminisce about the usual things: old friends, lost loves, research projects gone horribly awry.

A towering, bald, muscular man with golden eyes, brown skin, and the wizened voice of a movie narrator, Greg made an immediate impression on the boys, even before their father told them of his glory days. Way back when, Greg had one of the premiere traveling trick motorcycle riders on the West Coast. He went under the stage name Xehanort. He nearly died seven times.

When Xehanort offered to give the boys a few lessons, well, Ven had never heard Vanitas give a more enthusiastic or more immediate “Yeah, okay, sure, I guess” in his life.

The lessons did not stop at two, and Xehanort began to mentor Vanitas in spare months and spare weekends until the boy had skills that rivaled his own.

Already on his poetry kick, Ven had artfully named the stunt channel Vanitas launched _Unversed_. Ven dutifully filmed videos perched on ladders, rooftops, and most notoriously, a moving skateboard, and Vanitas did the rest.

Taking the skills he learned, Vanitas built a bad-ass brand, nabbed a sponsorship from Monster Energy, and accumulated a cult following. And if it had cost him his grades freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior years of high school, well, Vanitas had never seemed to mind.

Vanitas didn’t land the tour until his freshman year of college, though, not long after he was kicked out of the dorms. And the deferment began. Sophomore year and then junior. Master Eraqus trusted Xehanort enough to keep his mouth shut about the potential ramifications on his future, but Terra, who has no such qualms, hasn’t spoken to Vanitas in upward of 26 months.

Ven had refused the invitation to accompany him. They didn’t need an amateur cameraman where Vanitas was going, and Ven wouldn’t have said yes, even if they had. Watching Vanitas risk his life grew more stressful and tiresome with every waking minute. Besides, he liked college. The impromptu friendships, the coffee binges, the late night study sessions, the pervasive smell of laundry detergent, and, most cliche of all, the independence.  

Ven hasn’t seen Vanitas in person since Christmas.

Monthly video-chatting, occasional texting, and even watching every behind-the-scenes video before it went live on YouTube hadn’t come close to filling the Van-shaped void at his side.

Then, abruptly, it was May, the tour had ended, and Vanitas had come back. Re-enrolled. Picked up some kind of pre-law major. _Just like that._

_And I’ll be damned if I let history repeat itself._

 

“I mean it.” Ven stops at the top of the stairs and really looks at his brother, already halfway down the flight. His distressed black skinny jeans have been replaced with black skinny dress slacks, and his black cotton tee swapped for an only slightly wrinkled white button down. This concerted effort suggests that whatever he might say, he had really intended to return to school for more than two days.  “And I’m not going to let them kick you out.”

Vanitas halts as well. He leans back, his arms splayed across the handrail, uncomfortably cool despite the school budget’s allergy to AC, and glances up to ensure his brother catches his eye roll as he cranks up his music. “Tell it to the judge, Ven.”

Ven frowns back, spinning one of the gritty skateboard wheels under his palm. “I will.”

_The I.V. and_

_Your hospital bed_

_This was no accident,_

_This was a therapeutic chain of events_


	2. Younger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I was younger  
> The fat kid with the big, blue eyes full of wonder  
> No shame, no fame, no worries, the king of wiffle ball  
> Without a care at all
> 
> I wish I was younger  
> Keeping track of the lightning strikes and the thunder  
> Barely thirteen, no hurry, my feet over the wall  
> It doesn't matter if I fall  
> A Great Big World

To their credit, Ven and Vanitas almost make it out the door without running into a single one of Ven’s residents. But, as luck would have it, his scrawny, former freshman Zack and summer resident Herc crowd the lower landing, gym bags and rank gray towels on their shoulders, and sweat crawling down their necks.

They have paused to more adequately flex and compare bicep muscle mass, and they don’t stop on Ven’s account. He skips down the last few steps to wedge himself between them, and before they really process his presence, Ven is placing the hand not clutching his skateboard on one bicep and then the other and saying “Hmmmm” with mock gravity as they giggle.

“I think Herc’s got you beat fair and square,” Ven judges, managing a good-natured smile, despite the pervading aroma of sweat and Axe Body Spray.

“Well, good morning to you, too, Ven.” Zack flicks his free hand in a wave that somehow matches his wry tone. “Did you confiscate a skateboard at six a.m.?”

Vanitas lets out a single bark of laughter. “ _Confiscate?_ ”

Vanitas figures Ven skates more than he walks. He used to, anyway. His eyes rake over his brothers’ RA apparel: an obnoxiously lime polo and khaki shorts, and sees where the confusion lies. Only his Converse, lengthy bangs, and lip ring show any hint of the badass who had been branded emo, skater, punk, and worse since late middle school. And those were circumstantial evidence at best.  

The residents’ arms drop and their eyes widen at the sight of not one, but two Ventuses before they remember some vague mention of a twin during a round of Two Truths and A Lie at the summer’s first mandatory floor meeting.

“Vanitas,” Ven introduces, “meet the mighty Hercules and the beautiful Zack Fair.”

Hercules waves and Zack swats Ven’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “I prefer ‘stunning’, actually.”

Ven raises a brow and mouths the word back skeptically.

“Vanitas,” Vanitas repeats, lifting his helmet in salutation. “‘Sup?”

They blink a few times, but Vanitas ignores their overlong stares with practiced patience and the approximation of a smile. There’s something striking about him, even to people who don’t know who he is, what he does.

Realizing their attention has lingered too long, they abruptly shift back to the matter at hand, Zack scowling playfully as Herc slugs his shoulder.

“No hard feelings, buddy. It’s all Phil, I’m telling you.” Herc gestures to Ven and Vanitas with what’s left of a purple Gatorade. “My personal trainer is a miracle worker.”

Vanitas deduces he’s on the track and field team with a quick glance down to the logo on his bro tank.

_Discus? What century is this?_

Zack nods, laughing and clapping Ven’s back. “We could use a miracle.”

Vanitas smirks and pauses in adjusting his own long bangs in his reflection on the visor of his helmet to glance at Ven.

“ _Hey_ ,” Ven chuckles, nudging up his glasses, “don’t drag me into this.”

“I think it’s a great idea!” Herc has the kind of unbridled enthusiasm that can only come from a rush of early morning endorphins. “Maybe you can help each other.”

“Yeah,” Zack brightens and sets a hand on Ven’s forearm. “Slackers united. Come with us next time.”

 _Next time,_ it echoes in Vanitas’ mind, in all its ironic glory.

Ven tenses, mouth half open, and stutters, brows furrowing. His mouth forms around a number. _358._

Zack eases back his hand and blows a damp, raven black strand of hair from his violet-blue eyes. His voice maintains the upbeat lilt that his expression doesn’t quite manage. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah,” Ven mumbles, beams, too bright, artificial light, and reaches out to return the gesture, quickly pressing Zack’s arm and releasing it. “Yeah, I’d love to help you put this meatball to shame.”

Herc’s eyebrows pop up. “Oh really?”

The freshmen laugh, but there’s a bit of hesitance to it now.

“We got places to be,” Vanitas intervenes, a wince tightening his face. His black leather glove snags the back of Ven’s polo collar, propelling him forward, past the young athletes and their confused smiles. “Scuse us.”

“Wait,” Hercules glances between Zack and Ventus, either generous or oblivious. “We’re heading to brunch with Meg after we hit the showers. You’re both more than welcome to join us.”

“Waffles, Ven,” Zack coaxes, slight apparently forgotten.

Ven’s eyes widen. “ _Waffles_ , Vanitas.” Ven’s stomach is going to say yes, but Vanitas gives his collar a firmer yank.

Ven groans, shoulders slumping cartoonishly. “Can’t. We’ve got a meeting with the resident director.”

“New resident?” Zack asks, Vanitas imagines, because he’s living alone in a double and would like to keep it that way, especially if this smirking, silent, emo kid would be filling the vacancy.

“No…”

Vanitas stares at Ven as he works his jaw, but Ven can’t bring himself to stutter out anything coherent.

Scoffing, Vanitas wrestles the front door open with one hand and a firm kick of his combat boot and practically shoves his brother through it.

“Top secret, huh?” Zack calls after them. “Catch you later?”

“We’re off to find out if we’ve been expelled.” Vanitas pokes his head back in to explain, tone and smile inexplicably pleasant.  “Don’t wait up.” The door closes on their stunned expressions with a satisfactory smack.

* *

Ven has already descended the steps that lead from the concrete, pillar enclosed front patio to the sidewalks by the time Vanitas comes out. Squatting to set his skateboard down, Ven raises his chin to offer his brother the chilliest of glares.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Vanitas snorts. “It’s in my Twitter bio.”

 _His_ authenticated _Twitter bio_ , Ven edits, irritation scratching at him like the sidewalk beneath the palm he sets down for balance.

“Good.” Ven picks himself up and just stands there, intent on saying nothing else until Vanitas scrapes together some sort of apology.

Vanitas hops over the steps to alight gracefully beside him, then plants a hand on his hip and glances around for the chalked up patch of sidewalk screaming ICE CREAM SOCIAL!. This meanders off to the joke of a parking lot where he had left his bike, likely after several reassurances to himself that it was too early for students to be awake enough to screw with it.

Apparently uninterested in what Ven will make of this pitstop, Vanitas sets off, slipping his helmet under his arm. There is an mP3 strapped to a black band on his bicep like an IV drip, and he flicks the screen to lower the volume of TØP’s “Fairly Local” a smidge. “I don’t see what your deal is.”

Ven scoffs, stepping on the board and running both hands through his blonde bed head as he pushes off. “Those weren’t just my residents, okay? They’re my friends.”

“Friends.” Vanitas sighs melodramatically, as Ven skims past him, his board’s wheels clattering in the ridges of the sidewalk. “Oh _god_.”

“You know,” Ven can feel his expression darkening, the tolerance he thought he had built up to his brother’s constant goading apparently in short supply. “People I don’t have to pay to hang out with me.”

“Right.” Vanitas is secure enough in his relationships with his crew and fellow stuntmen not to take offense at anything in this statement except that Ven seems to believe it. _Ventus who rarely has a bad word to say about anybody who hasn’t flat out decked him first._

He figures Ven mostly wants to change the subject.

“You’re one to talk.” Vanitas remains intent on his trajectories. “You never _tell_ anyone anything.”

This makes Ven set his sneaker to the pavement and skid. “Why would I tell them _that?_ Why did you for that matter?” He can feel his face heat up from the fury as much as the apathetic glare of the sun. Sora and Terra tan like islanders but the twins burn and peel like vampires in church. “We don’t know what the RD is going to say. She might let us off with a warning.”

Ven does not believe this for a second and Vanitas is well aware, his tone increasingly scathing, “I mean about _anything_. Friends? Those guys don’t even know you. _Is that a skateboard?_ _Do you even lift, bro?_ ”

_At least with Sora, Riku, and Kairi, Ven will be able to be himself._

The falsetto and quick hand gestures Vanitas takes on to mimic Zack Fair are impressively accurate, which just makes Ven grit his teeth all the harder.

“That is like _two_ things.”

“Neither of them knew who I was.” Vanitas trails Ven a few steps down the path to the parking lot and then halts in the pink chalk “o” of ‘social’ which aptly mirror’s Ven’s mouth. “I mean, what the hell?”

Ven’s board slows. Vanitas hears him take a steadying breath, keeping his tone cloud light.

“They probably just forgot, or something.”

Vanitas doesn’t know how to respond. He had just assumed Ven had friends that would greet him like a long lost member of the squad. His crew certainly would have done that for Ven if he had made it out to a show even once.

“Okay?”

The way Ven figures, three brothers with outlandish names, three wildly different temperaments, and three different addresses is a lot to ask a resident to remember.

 _And Vanitas is a lot in general._  

“I’ve been told I’m pretty hard to forget.” Vanitas smirk holds no joy. “Unless you don’t want me here. In which case, just say the word. I think your resident director will be more than happy to oblige.”

Mouth shut, Ven casts his eyes out to the dandelions crowding the edge of the lawn, expression thoughtful, possibly contrite.

 _Pitiful, really,_ thinks Vanitas. _Weak_. But the way the early scarlet sun catches in his hair and washes his skin, rimming him with a halo of gold, Vanitas has trouble retaining the sentiment. He guesses he understands why the girls in the comment section used to call him their angel. The crew had lived for it. _Hail Ventus, full of grace._

“It’s lonely here in the summertime,” Ven admits finally. “The other RAs are douchebags. I don’t know Zack and Herc that well yet, but I like them, and I just don’t want them to think,” he settles one sneaker against the pavement, rolls the board below the other foot, corrects, “to know—I’m, you know…”

 _Teetering on the verge of unemployment_ , Ven concludes mentally, though that’s not it in its entirety.

“Like me?” Vanitas approaches, steps purposeful. His chuckle, though nonthreatening, yanks his brother’s confessional gaze from the lawn. “Is that what you’re so afraid of, Ventus?”

There’s a wary laugh clinging to Ven’s voice like wet tissue paper, “That’s not what I was gonna say.”

“Why not?” Vanitas passes straight by him, eyes already casting around the lot for his bike. Not one of the showy ebony affairs that he uses for shows, accented electric gold or lime green and glittering with gloss, but the solid black fixer upper he takes everywhere else, the original _Unversed_ sticker the pair designed slightly askew on the fuel tank cover. “It’s the truth.”

Ven trails him to the bike, warily.

_I am nothing like you._

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your shiny new straight-lace, straightened room, straight-A reputation.” Vanitas straps his helmet to his bike and follows Ven as he kicks off toward a nearby sidewalk, spanning the side of Nomura Hall, past mid-priced sedans, their windows green with seed pods from overhanging trees that had been standing longer than the campus itself.

_ Straight.  _ Ventus ignores the implication. He’s not in denial, but he doesn’t see any reason to scream it from the rooftops either. 

“It’s not a crime to want to get my life together, Van.”

Vanitas’ pale lips quirk, disagreement clear as it is condescending. “If you want to call it that.”

_More like a very long nap._

“I mean, I am supposed to tell people what, about you, exactly?” Ven’s path curves to block Vanitas’, gesturing freely as he slows, unconcerned that his volume is rising, “‘I have a famous twin brother, you’ve probably never heard of him. Please don’t Google him because then you’ll see videos of us committing minor felonies and acting like asshats. He’s in trouble more than he’s out of it, has more money than he knows what to do with, and the longest he’s lasted in college was four months.’”

Vanitas’ eyes, soaked gold with the sun, burn into him, their expression as much amused as pissed off. “For fuck’s sake, Ventus. Lay it all on me.”

Ven scowls, volume dropping. “We don’t have enough time for that.”

He pushes off, maintaining a speed faster than Vanitas can keep pace with outside of a degrading jog. So Vanitas ambles behind at his leisure, hands in pockets, mouthing lyrics. Plenty of time to realize Ven has successfully changed the subject from his own shortcomings to Vanitas’ before they reach an identical dorm with a slightly different jumble of letters on the sign out front.

Ven thinks he should probably regret the words he practically spit in his brother’s face.

_Probably._

Vanitas thinks maybe Kairi and Sora and Mickey Mouse are shit out of luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to pay homage to the epic bromance between Ven, Herc, and Zack, even if it's not going to be super central to the plot.
> 
> Vanitas doesn't have a ton of character development in the games, and I have read like no fics about him, so I'm just making him kind of a cool, confident, bad boy, dick, who cares deeply about his friends but doesn't express it in a reasonable way. And he is so much fun to write. No wonder people love him. 
> 
> Ven's maybe a little ooc because I want him to be older and therefore more mature, and I wanted to give him some of Rox's sarcasm and edge. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think?


	3. The Judge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know my soul's freezing;  
> Hell's hot for good reason.  
> So please, take me.  
> Twenty One Pilots

They stand under the patio, breathing in the scent of the nearby shrubbery and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, banned from campus in name only, as the humidity rubs the backs of their necks.

“Let’s get this over with,” Ven mutters, squeezing one arm with his free hand and bumping his skateboard against his leg. Neither make any attempt to ring the buzzer situated to the right of the door, just above the card scanner.

Vanitas takes a certain amount of joy in riling Ven up and calling him out on his shit, but he hates to see him looking so goddamn dejected.

“Wait. Look,” Vanitas eyes flicker up to Ven’s and he taps his mP3, flicking the music to something unusually quiet, melancholy, “I was just trying to make it easier for you. If the shit hits the fan. It’ll be better if they know what’s up, your… friends.”

_There’s the apology. Blink and it’s gone._

Ven halts, savoring the unusual hesitance dragging down his brother’s mouth. Ven notes Vanitas’ eyes darting to the side because he doesn’t want to see Ven reject it.

“I told you, I’m not going to let that happen.” Ven’s jaw is rigid but he manages to coax the assurance out. He offers a slow, conciliatory smile to go with it but it passes unnoticed.

Vanitas is inspecting the row of windows to his left, mostly open, some hung with bright, mismatched curtains, a couple box fans, one with a blue Wayfinder U flag. Ridiculously, Ven’s first thought is that Vanitas is planning his escape route.

Vanitas abandons this inspection to lean against a pillar and survey Ven instead, so earnest and professional and _fake_ in his ironed khakis. “How exactly are you planning to stop it?” Vanitas’ demeanor has changed. The question seems amused, detached even, considering both of their necks are on the line.

_Ven is going to do it. Of course he is. Play right into my hands without my even nudging him._

Ven’s smirk is an involuntary flicker, but Vanitas’ narrows his eyes. “If you can keep your mouth shut in there for like five minutes,” Ven instructs. “That’s all I need.”

_God, he could at least put up a fight._

Vanitas’ face scrunches in mock-disgust, wondering how much reverse psychology is too much. “Forget it then.”

Ven scowls, but his heart is no longer in it. “Now would be an excellent time to practice.”

“Well, I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” Vanitas replies dryly, fishing the phone from his pocket and switching it to silent. The last thing he needs is Kairi self-sabotaging her special request by textbombing him.

Ven nudges the buzzer with the backs of two fingers, but doesn’t respond to the spray of static as Vanitas flicks his wrist to recapture his brother’s attention. “Just one last thing, Ventus, and then I’ll shut it.”

“Yeah?”

“You going to tell Fair you have the hots for him, or should I do it?”

Ven makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and clatters to grasp the skateboard he near drops. “ _Vanitas_.”

“Sorry the _stunning_ Zack Fair."

When Ven doesn't rise to his bait, Vanitas presses, irritated, "He _clearly_ likes you back. What? You worried he and Herc’ll knock your lights out?” Vanitas gestures vaguely in the direction of Ven’s dorm and the residents inside of it.

Ven rakes fingers through his hair distractedly. “N-no… He doesn’t even...” Ven stops himself, uncertainty pinching between his eyes. “I don’t think they would…” Ven shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t afford to screw things up like that right now.”

“Whatever, you could kick both of those dudes’ asses in your sleep.”

Surprised more by the compliment than the non sequitur, Ven spares him a soft smile, which throws Vanitas off entirely. “Yeah. I know. But I don’t want to. They're my friends.”

Vanitas inclines his head as well, awaiting further explanation, but Ven keeps his eyes on the buzzer he’s steeling himself up to pressing again.

 _He’s not going to tell Zack._ Vanitas is now fully aware. No matter how many brunch invites or bicep pets.

_Of fucking course not._

_Just another reason I’ve gotta do this, then._

“You should tell them that much.” Vanitas pushes off from the column and leans in toward his brother, flashing a wolfish smile. “Might keep them in line.”

“Yeah,” Ven rolls his eyes, smile a little more steadfast now, and pushes in the buzzer. “I’ve got to watch out for those two. Nothing but trouble.” He catches Vanitas’ eye as he lays an arm across Ven’s shoulders. “Maybe we should blame the whole thing on them.”

Vanitas uses his position to flick Ven in the cheek. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Hey, how can I help you?” interrupts the intercom in a staticky male bass. Both of their spines to stiffen at the intrusion.

Ven tightens his grip on the board and taps the button again, eye catching on the glitter of his name badge in the sun. “It’s Ven.”

“Ay, bro,” the voice sounds slightly more awake, “just a sec.”

Ven bumps his shoulder into the arm across it. “That’s what’s going to happen if one of us doesn’t take the blame.” He scans Vanitas’ expression as if searching for sympathy, and it’s all Vanitas can do not to laugh outright. “They’re going to terrorize my freshmen.”

He pats Ven’s shoulder with a leather glove. “I said not to tempt me.”

The door buzzes and Ven waits the necessary seconds for a click to pry it open and tug his brother inside. There an RA is waiting to take them up.

Judging by the steam rising from the coffee mug in his palm and the scrunch of his face, dark with five o’clock shadow, the other RA is not actually awake. They don’t exchange much more than a “hey” before he directs them up a flight of stairs and down an undecorated hall. The trio pick their way past drop cloths reeking of fresh white paint. Above Vanitas’ dimmed music they hear the whir and whines of box fans, persistent despite their obvious inadequacy in the face of the rising humidity.

Eventually the other RA stops in front of a door with an office tag where the others have dry erase boards and raps his knuckles against the nearest panel. He jerks a thumb down the hall to indicate his inclement departure.

“Be with you in a moment,” answers a clipped male voice that decidedly does not belong to the unflappable young woman who had hired Ven last spring.

“It was nice knowing you,” Ven murmurs to the other RA, much more chipperly, Vanitas notes, than he had spoken to Vanitas all morning.

“Shit luck, man,” the RA whispers back, expression genuinely sympathetic, if still bleary-eyed. He nudges Ven’s elbow and winks. “But you got my text, yeah?”

Ven nods quickly and flashes a grin.

The RA nods acutely and stumbles off before the RD can glimpse him. In all likelihood, he’s headed back to the duty office to drown his throat with Aquafina and nod off, leaving an indentation in the bric-a-brac crowding the desk, at least until his hangover subsides.

“Don’t be stupid, Ven.” Vanitas murmurs, powering down his music and staring at the door, calculating. “I’ll tell them what I did.”

Ven groans and brushes back his bangs. Vanitas can see his forehead crinkle out of the corner of his eye. Before he can make a counter argument the door starts to creak. Ven props his skateboard against the far wall, crosses his arms, and plants his feet.

The office bears a heavy, dormitory bedroom style door that has to be lugged open. The man who does the lugging has a scowl on his face which accentuates the crow’s feet shrinking his eyes. He’s probably in his forties or a fit fifty, and sports a black crew cut and overambitious business attire.

“Ventus and Vanitas Eraqus?” he drawls, scanning the tops of their heads from his six foot something vantage point, narrowing in on spiked hair, leather, and a piercing with an increasingly tight frown. “Please. Come in. I’m here on behalf of the University Disciplinary Committee.”

_The main thing was that Ventus hadn’t reacted properly. He had taken one look at the whole affair Vanitas set up and laughed his ass off until he felt burning in his chest from oxygen suppression. The RD had stood by, still holding the water bottle Ven had sent her to retrieve from the third floor community kitchenette and viewed his hysterics in silence._

The suit directs the brothers into a pair of scratched wooden chairs better befitting an interrogation room than an office. Ven notes with detachment that his RD hasn’t abandoned him, and is seated behind her desk, a manila folder pressed between her neatly manicured black nails and a carefully neutral expression beneath her mauve lipstick. The suit moves to sit beside her in a cushier desk chair. 

“Ven,” she greets more casually, eyes narrowing beneath straight, choppy black bangs, “and this must be… do you go by...?”

“Vanitas? Yeah, I don’t know,” Vanitas shrugs, offering a twist of the lips to the RD, “it’s fucking Latin. I think our parents are gonna do time in hell for that one.”

Ven winces and pinches the bridge of his nose, though the RD keeps her lips pursed and the suit merely leans back in his chair and folds his hands on the desk.

So much for five minutes of silence.

“Language,” Ven mutters into Vanitas’ ear, and Vanitas flutters a few fingers over his mouth.

“Oh. Sorry,” he glances from one judge to the other. “Heck,” he corrects, mirroring the suit’s folded hands, though the blinding smile is all his own.

The RD gives a soft shake of her head. “Let’s just get started.” The RD opens her folder and looks to her companion. The suit nods. “As you both know, we are here to discuss the, um, jello incident which occurred approximately three days ago.”

She slides a photo across the table.

_Ven and the RD had been checking in a late arrival from Toledo, a girl with a crown of french braids, an iguana, and what Ven had privately deemed an incredibly unnecessary amount of furniture for three months as he and the RD helped her lug it up three flights of stairs._

_As Ven reluctantly turned to confirm to her demanding mother that he did, in fact, know how to hook up the TV, he caught a glimpse of the grimace his RD was giving the nasty hall drinking fountain, which along with several dents, had a verdigre ring around the basin. He redirected her to the fridge in the third floor common area kitchenette which he had thoughtfully stocked with a few water bottles, cans of pop, apples, and cheese sticks for his residents._

_“Are you sure?” she had asked and he had said, “Of course, go ahead.” Like a bonafide idiot._

_He was ankle deep in extension cords when the RD called out to him, but by her tone, he knew better than to make her wait. He suspected one of his residents had spilled something. Maybe misplaced a can of beer. He was not expecting this._

_On the counter, she had set a plate half full of blue Hawaiian jello shots, each garnished with a tiny neon, floral print toothpick umbrella._

_On the plate a folded note scrawled in green Sharpie._

_“Welcome, summer residents! Snacks on me! Behave yourselves ;) - Ven”_

_One day._

_Vanitas had only been back for one fucking day._

_So Ven had started laughing and then he couldn’t stop._

Ven gives the picture a cursory glimpse and slides it on to Vanitas who surveys his handiwork with considerable more interest, making no visible effort to hide his stretching lips.

“Plate’s half-empty.” Vanitas leans toward his brother and slides the photo back, tone blatantly entertained, “Looks like your froshes appreciate a warm welcome, Ven.”

The suit pauses to withdraw the photo across the table, pulling reading glasses from his breast pocket and flipping them on. “Need I remind you, Vanitas, that you are a single misconduct away from expulsion?”

Vanitas’ smile flips over, tone hardening. “You need not, no.”

Ven goes rigid. He knew Vanitas was skating on thin ice, but was not aware it was cracking. It’s what he was afraid of. His mind starts to whir like the box fans outside, question upon question.

_What would Dad say? Where would Van go? He can probably afford another university, but does he have the grades to get into one?_

_And, expelled after two days back, will he even bother?_

The RD and suit wait for the twins to offer an explanation, but the twins, having grown up with three brothers, know better.

This time the RD passes a scrap of paper across her desk.

“Before you try to deny any involvement, why don’t you flip that on over?”

The note accompanying the jello shots had been scrawled on the back of some junk mail, a credit card offer of some type, beginning, “Dear Mr. V. Eraqus...”

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

“Now, we assume one of you will be able to shed some light on this matter.”

Vanitas sets his hand atop the note Ven wrote and he repositioned and drums his fingers. He turns to catch Ven’s eyes, latently recalling his vow of silence.

Ven believes that Vanitas never dreamt that the RD would ever see what had been a relatively harmless prank in the grand scheme of flagrant college drunkness. If Ven had never told her to use the fridge, Vanitas wouldn’t even be sitting here on his third day back. He would be on his way to collect his textbooks from the university bookstore, assessing potential apartments, or getting reacquainted with campus and classmates.

Getting back to becoming a normal college kid for the first time. Not putting on his game face to make Ven look like the victim.

Fortunately, Ven knows something he shouldn’t regarding the final resting place of the jello shots.

Vanitas could not have timed the disciplinarian’s threat to expel him better himself. Just when he was starting to suspect Ven would rat him out? _Boom. We’re making magic._

Ven smacks the table and Vanitas leans back, caught off guard. “Oh come _on._ It was just a stupid prank.”

 _Ven sounds like the whiny brat he had been at 14._ Vanitas bites his inner lip to keep his poise. _What does Xehanort always say? Don’t flinch, son._

Ven’s words cut through stunned silence, “I put jello in plastic cups to try and get a laugh out of my residents.” He tosses up his hands, exposing the inch long black and white rings on his fingers, “I mean. That’s hardly illegal.”

“It is when you put vodka in the jello and serve it to minors,” counters the suit, borderline amused, collecting the note back. “That’s pretty much illegal.”

Ven’s hands drop abruptly, his rings tapping the table. “But I didn’t!”

Vanitas chuckles. _Technically, it was coconut rum._

The suit looks at the frowning RD and stops just short of rolling his eyes. He flips through the file without looking. “PD’s analysis of the contents of the jello have determined that…”

The RD cocks her head, deliberating, “Actually...”

“What?” The suit pretty much whirls on her, his face tightening into something akin to ‘...am I doing here, then?’ “We always conduct an analysis. It’s standard procedure.” He tells this to Ven, who already knows.

“I called in a new summer RA; he wasn’t aware of the procedure. He tossed the jello down the sinks. It’s a fairly common rookie mistake, so…”

“You don’t have any proof,” Ven concludes meeting her troubled gaze head on.

Vanitas’ eyes narrow. _I am_ not _going to have to think of another way to get this Boy Scout fired._

“I have proof that one of you made an alcoholic reference and posted vulgar language in a public location. You have claimed responsibility, Ven. As you know, we hold high expectations for our resident assistants. This behavior falls more than a little short of that mark."

 _Perfect._ Relief cools the dull pound of stress in Vanitas’ head though his expression remains vacant. _May the Disney gods bless you, woman. Hercules, Zeus, Pluto._

“I’m sorry. It really was just a joke, but I see now that it wasn’t appropriate.” Ven looks the part of a penitent sinner all too quickly, glancing down at his hands, gripping the edge of the desk, white knuckled. “I will apologize to all the residents and behave much more professionally in the future."

The RD looks to Vanitas, waiting for a refute that isn’t coming.

“Very noble of you, Ven,” he offers as if to appease her. Ven stiffens at his side but doesn’t dare to glance his way and risk upending the charade.

“Noble?” the suit repeats, leaning in. “Try bare minimum.”

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” the RD says at length, and the suit literally coughs to hide an impatient scoff. “If you did this, Ven, why _show_ it to me?”

Now Ven does glance to an expressionless Vanitas, shakes his head, meets her eyes again. “I just...completely forgot about it to be honest. They were in there for a few days at that point.”

“Is this true, Vanitas?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Vanitas cups a hand to his lips but doesn’t bother to stage whisper. “Between you and me, our Ven’s got a bit of a wild side.”

The suit stands abruptly. “Enough. Ven has claimed responsibility. The issue is settled, as far as I’m concerned.”

Vanitas nods. _Praise be to Mickey fucking mouse._

“Ventus, we’re going to have to place you on probation from your position as a resident assistant,” the suit orders, glancing at the RD for a confirmation or challenge.

“I understand,” Ven chimes in before she can give either.

“Vanitas,” the suit turns, and Ven bites his bottom lip, “thank you for your...cooperation.”

Ven breathes. _That’s it then._ _Vanitas stays. Somebody get me a medal. I am like brother of the century here._

Vanitas gives the suit a plucky, two fingered salute. “Let’s do it again some time.”

This time the suit does roll his eyes, turning away before he can say something regrettable. “Anita,” he shakes the RD’s hand and meets each of the guys’ eyes briefly. “If that’s all then… a good day to you.”

Once the man’s out the door, Ven rises and Vanitas follows suit, ready to cut a hasty exit.

Ven’s feet seem to stick to the thin carpet. He realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. This is as far as he has planned. _Get Vanitas’ ungrateful ass off the hook, take the fall, and then?_

So he begins to follow Vanitas, who has at least done this before.  

“Ven, wait,” the RD stretches out her hand, expression still uneasy, “can I speak to you privately for a moment?”

Vanitas suppresses an urge to pound his head against the desk and waltzes out all by his lonesome.

_Don’t flinch._

He figures it’s about time to initiate phase three, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A vanitas is a symbolic work of art showing the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death, often contrasting symbols of wealth and symbols of ephemerality and death." - Wikipedia
> 
> In Latin, Vanitas means "empty", "futile", "worthless"
> 
> Ventus was a Roman wind deity.


	4. Swing, Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days swiftly come and go-  
> I'm dreaming of her.  
> She's seeing other guys-  
> Emotions they stir.  
> The All-American Rejects

_“Well?” the RD had said finally, gesturing emphatically to the jello shots on the counter, the note, in Ven’s handwriting._

_Ven had tried to get the words out but found himself wheezing, throat tight, tears threatening to roll down a cheek. He just shook his head, unable to manage the bitter-tasting “it’s been fun” stuck to the tip of his tongue like a wad of tasteless gum._

_“I think you should go.”_

_Ven had nodded, swiping the tear of laughter from his cheek and headed down to the lobby. When she passed through the next few times, on the phone, a camera in her hand, a reluctant RA in tow, she saw Ven, returned to his usual composed self, continuing to check in the new arrival._

_It hadn’t been what she meant, but she hadn’t protested either. He got the TV hooked up, so._

 

“Hey, Nita.” Ven settles down at the desk, wearing a more earnest expression, hands up in preparation for what might have to be a long exposition on the contagion of college drinking culture. “Look, I am so sorry about all of this. I really blew it.”

“Your brother,” she interrupts, tone softer than it had been only moments before, “Vanitas. Is he really on the verge of expulsion?”

“Uh,” Ven glances to the door and back. It’s a loaded question. Vanitas wouldn’t want him to say a word, of course, but it’s nothing she can’t figure out with a few well placed emails.  “He’s only been back in town for a couple days, but he had a rough time of it freshman year, so, I, uh,” Ven's smile is strained, his brows up, “wouldn’t be surprised.”

She nods, mulling this over, and reaches for the thermos of rosé colored tea at her side. “I have a couple sisters of my own, you know,” she says.

He did not know.

She flips the cap up and a plume of smoke drifts out. Ven tries to focus on the sweet smell of strawberry. “My mother used to say that family is the only thing you really need.”

Ven’s mother did not tend to say such things.

She had only taken Sora with her after the divorce.

“And I’d do anything for those two,” the RD glances away toward a wall calendar of photos from London, one of those fond, distant expressions on her face. “It’s gotten me in my fair share of trouble too, I’m a little embarrassed to admit.”

“But you keep loving ‘em anyway?” Ven concludes, trying to anticipate where this is heading, to make it end sooner.

“Well,” she pauses, and clearly he has guessed wrong, “but, Ven, as much as you love him, he needs to be held responsible for his own actions--right or wrong.”

She saw the note in his handwriting and heard the confession from his lips, and she still doesn’t believe it. Ven’s not sure if he should feel proud of his strong moral fiber or upset that she would pass so much judgement on his brother based on a leather jacket, black hair, and four minutes of conversation.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ven says.

The RD stares back, lips pursed.

“Van’s grown up since his first year,” Ven continues, certainly. “I’m sure he won’t be causing you any more trouble.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.” He does his best to look it. He figures it might even be true.

She gives her head a minute shake and stands, though Ven knows it’s him that ought to be going. Vanitas will be stewing outside, a roiling storm cloud forming above his head.

“Well, as I said, I’ll be sending you additional details on your probation via email. You will have to move off campus unless you want to pay for housing, and seeing as you aren’t taking any classes this quarter...”

“I understand,” he repeats, fingers pressing at the edges of his name badge. “I’m sure I’ll find something to do with myself.” He had intended to look for a second job anyway.

She reaches a hand out for his and after a pause, he shakes it.

“You’ve been a stellar RA, Ven. I’m disappointed to see things end like this. I’ll put in a good word for you next semester, should you want to try again. And if you happen to be applying for another job, while the university can’t recommend you, I…”

She drops his hand.

“Yeah?”

She glances to the door as if the suit might be outside it, ear pressed to a glass. “You have my personal cell. I’m happy to serve as a reference.”

Ven takes a half step back, a surprised smile catching at his lips, “Uh. Thanks, Nita. Really.”

“Take care of yourself, Ven.” She nods, as if quietly pleased with her decision. “And…take care of Vanitas too.”

“I always do.” Ven hefts the door open and lingers in the frame a half second longer, adjusting his glasses. “I’ll see you around.”

She doesn’t respond, and it only occurs to him as he shuts the heavy door behind him that maybe he won’t.

 

Ven is momentarily stunned to find that Vanitas has up and left, and so, coincidentally, has Ven’s skateboard. Only twin tracks of white paint stretching from a drop cloth to the far staircase suggest any invitation to follow. Ven tries not to think about the damage to the carpet or his wheels as he hustles to trace his brother’s path down the back staircase and out a back door.

Ven’s heart rate has elevated and his breathing picked up by the time he shoves his way into the daylight. He stands stalk still, letting the breeze frost the sheen of sweat down his back and watching his brother.

 _Paramore_ pumps low beneath light conversation as Vanitas skateboards close to an empty bike rack, his form poor, his expression mildly exasperated. He’s trying to keep his balance on the board, chew gum, and talk on the phone at the same time. He doesn’t seem to be succeeding at any of these ventures.

“You owe me though, is what I’m saying,” Vanitas tells Kairi, his tone unusually wheedling, almost playful, as he tongues the gum to the side of his mouth.

“ _How_ ever _can I make it up to you, sugar?_ ”

Vanitas can hear the sarcasm dripping from her flute sweet voice and his smile widens. “That’s up to you,” he murmurs huskily. He’s too distracted by her soft giggle to reposition himself in time--to even notice--a divot in the concrete.  

It doesn’t help that Ven chooses this moment to step forward and clear his throat, hands in pockets, expression judgemental in its blankness.

Vanitas mostly stifles his shriek as he falters, the board sliding out from under him, his gum ejected from his mouth. He manages to hop off and regain his footing while Ven’s skateboard clatters into the lawn and unsuccessfully attempts to do a 180 of its own accord.

_“Uh. You okay there, honey bun?”_

Vanitas grunts in the affirmative, amusement dropping from his voice, “Got to go.” He looks at Ven who has yet to tear his gaze away from his collapsed, paint-streaked skateboard, and then to the sky as he tries to make out Kairi’s words above the din of Sora and Riku’s interruptions. He crouches to retrieve Ven’s skateboard and hide the pink flush he feels tinting his cheeks.

“ _Make it happen, sweetie. Kisses._ ”

“ _Kisses_ ,” Vanitas echoes her, teasing again, because she doesn’t mean it, and he’s hardly in any position to tell her he does.

Ven feels the skin on his arms prickle as disgust rises, tickling his throat.

“Call you in a few.” Vanitas hangs up before he can get dragged any further into their nonsense. His smile vanishes as if it had never been there, and he relinquishes the board into Ven’s outstretched palms with unnecessary force.

“What’s Flynn doing up this early?” Ven asks, unperturbed by the push, tucking the board under his arm. He nods toward the crumbly sidewalk running parallel to the building, leading away from the dorms, even if he has no idea where they should take it. He figures maybe it doesn’t matter at this point, seeing as Vanitas doesn’t have class today and Ven doesn’t have anything period.  

Vanitas chuckles and tucks his phone into his back pocket, eyes still set on the gray clouded sky, “Only you would assume that was Flynn.”

Ven wrinkles his nose. “Well, it certainly wasn’t Shang. Or Mom.”

Vanitas scowls, the way he always does at any mention of the woman that gave birth to them. That was the other reason Ven went on most of his summer trips to Destiny Island solo. Bad blood.

_But if it wasn’t part of his crew, who was it?_

Vanitas wanders off the sidewalk, into the middle of the street, and pauses on a faded yellow line, impatient, “You going to tell me if you got me expelled, or what?”

Ven shrugs, stepping off the curb. “You’re safe.” He decides not to explain the RD’s suspicions or why she had opted to ignore them. Vanitas isn’t likely to understand her motivations, let alone believe them genuine.

Vanitas is about to keep crossing, but pauses as Ven sets down his board. “And you, golden boy?”

“Very fired.”

Vanitas nods, expression shockingly devoid of malice. “Sucks.”

“It’s hardly the first time.” Ven intended it as a joke but the hard edge creeps in as he skates past Vanitas and edges the board up onto the other side of the street. There a squat brick church sweats beside a half-hearted attempt at a playground, featuring two swings, a straight beige slide, and not much else.

“You know,” Vanitas has a way of stretching out words he doesn’t want to say, “it never occurred to me that anyone would look in that fridge before you and a couple freshmen did.”

Ven looks back at Vanitas. His music still at a quarter of its usual deafening volume, he ambles along, his black painted nails in the pockets of his jacket, his gelled hair starting to curl up at odd angles in the humidity. Sometimes he still looks self-conscious and fifteen.

“I know.” Ven’s board sends a few rocks skittering and he watches them skip off and vanish in the grass. “Still sucks, though.”

Vanitas’ sighs as if tiring of Ven’s mood. “Don’t worry about it.” He crosses the sidewalk to the playground as if he has every right in the world to do so.

Ven hesitates, but reluctantly figures there’s no church on Tuesdays anyway, and follows suit, the mulch crunching undertow like autumn leaves. “Easy for you to say.”

“Look, I own up,” Vanitas sets one combat boot onto the rubber seat of the swing closest to them, testing his weight. The chains rattle and go taut as he raises his other foot into the saddle and hoists himself up, but they hold. “I kinda got you into this,” Vanitas continues, “Imma fix it.”

“You?” Ven watches his brother bend and straighten his knees to gain a bit of momentum. “Fix it _how_ , exactly?”

Vanitas doesn’t answer, flicking his eyes and thumb between Ven and the spare swing, paying no mind to the metallic crackle of his chains or the slightly sickening smell of crackling mud and sunburnt plastic.

Ven rolls his eyes, flips up his board, and stalks over to Vanitas’ side, dumping his ass on the hot dusty plastic seat and stretching his slender legs out, heels digging deep grooves into the dirt.

“You going to find me another job, hotshot?”

Vanitas winces. _That’s what Terra calls him when he wants to scrape under his skin, and Ven has no business saying it._

Vanitas fidgets with the device on his arm, and a band Ven’s never heard of begins to blare. “Already did,” he responds, volume rising with the bass. Vanitas releases one chain to push off the support pole, ascending dangerously high, dangerously quickly at something of angle, but showing no visible concern apart from a radiant smile. “Why do you think I was on the phone at seven fucking a.m.?”

Ven pushes backward, raising his feet to swing softly. “Seriously?” He’s not sure Vanitas hears him as the electric guitar picks up.

Vanitas leans, knocking himself into Ven’s side.  “Will you take it if I do?”

Ven raises a palm in a half shrug, pushing Vanitas back with the nose of his skateboard. “I think I’ll take anything at this rate,” he calls back, “Unless.” Ven’s feet skid, volume increasing, “You just want me back on the crew for your show.”

Ven can practically see a bold exclamation point dart above Vanitas’ head.

 _If it wasn’t on his mind,_ Ven realizes, _it certainly is now._

Vanitas twists on one chain of the swing to see Ven better, like an acrobat hanging on a ribbon, still swinging. “You know that your position in the crew for our show is always open, when you want it back.”

_Always “our”, always “when”. The manipulative bastard._

“Yeah well,” Ven points one toe, pushing off with the other, “I don’t, so.”

“When you’re ready then,” Vanitas shifts back on to both feet, facing forward, hands on either side of the chain, letting himself slowly lose momentum. From that angle, Ven can’t see the faint trace of frustration that Vanitas is fully aware is there. “Probably best that we don’t disappoint the Destiny trio, anyway.”

Ven chuckles, throaty and low. “You _have_ to stop calling Sora, Kairi, and Riku the Destiny trio. It sounds like they’re forming a barbershop quartet.”

Vanitas’ lip curls up on one side. “That’s exactly the vibe I was going for.” Inspired by the mundane church before him with its yellow stained glass, Vanitas belts out a deep, operatic note, which resonates in the quiet of the morning.

Ven laughs again but abruptly cuts off. “What do you mean _disappoint_ them?”

“I was just on the phone with _Kairi_ , and she was _very_ sympathetic to your plight,” Vanitas explains, head tilting, eyes batting, and hand flattening under his chin in impression of her. “She says she can get you a job.”

 _Kairi?_ No way in hell could Ven have guessed that.

Ven halts his swing and stands in the dirt. “In Florida?” he objects, hiking up a foot to mirror his brother’s precarious perch.

“C’mon,” Vanitas rams into him again, and if it weren’t for his excellent balance, Ven would be lying in the mulch, “you love the sunshine state. Besides, if you don’t go out there, Sora’ll be calling us every single goddamn day, and I am liable to bite his head off.”

It’s a lot to consider. Ven’s stuff is all in his dorm room and at his dad’s place, for one thing, but it’s also incredibly tempting. He can already feel himself toasting in the sand on Destiny Island, the salt wind pushing at his bangs, the waves crashing, gulls jeering, a popsicle in hand and Sora goofing off by his side.

“What’s the job?”

Vanitas figures it’s better he lets Sora talk him into _that_ part.

Vanitas leaps off the swing purely so that he can stand in front of Ven and use both hands to motion down his torso. “Do I look like Kairi to you?”

Ven lashes out with his foot to knock Vanitas in the chest, forcing him a step back. “Yeah.”  

Vanitas shakes his head. “Photography, maybe? Something lame.” Vanitas smirks.

Ven’s not as into photography as videography, but it’s a close second.

_This is all a little too good to be true, a little too fast._

Ven’s expression hardens. “If you’re bullshitting me, Vanitas, I swear to God, I’ll kick your punk ass.”

“I’m not,” Vanitas interrupts. “Like I said, I’m trying to make this up to you. And I think you should go. Then you won’t be here distracting me from my studies.” Even Vanitas can’t get this out without snorting.

Ven nearly chokes and has to let his swing slow as he composes himself. “Speaking of bullshit.” He lets the idea settle for a beat. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Vanitas nods and reaches out to grab Ven’s skateboard, stopping him, eyes catching the sun again, goldenrod, “because I already told Sora and Kairi you’d do it.”

“ _Vanitas!_ ” Ven’s mouth falls open. He drops the skateboard and the release pushes him backward.

Vanitas retreats to the sidewalk and sets down the board. Hopping on, he starts back toward the dorms, the sun in his hair, but not before tossing over his shoulder, “And no one says no to Kairi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas' stunt show is called Unversed. Ven named it. So far the crew includes Shang, Ping (Mulan), Flynn Rider (Tangled). I need some suggestions for other members. 
> 
> If you made it this far, bless. I know it's long and exposition-y. Let me know what you think.


	5. Airplanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?  
> ‘Cause I could really use a wish right now  
> B.o.B.

Gravity is a funny thing.

The box had been wedged contently between a cramped maroon suitcase and a neon green hamper for the better part of five minutes before it lunged out of the trunk of the car. Its cardboard bottom crumpled and gave up against the merciless blacktop of Traverse Town College Parking Lot E, its contents sprawling and rolling in celebration of their newfound freedom.

“I hate to say I told you so,” Riku’s lip curves up as he bends to retrieve the wayward object that has bumped into his ankle, tanned skin ringed with cowrie shells above a worn beige canvas slide, “but…”

Sora giggles tiredly and kneels to sweep his things into something of a mound. “Well, it was worth a shot, right?”  

Riku doesn’t have a chance to respond before Sora bounces to his feet again and tugs an empty recycle bag--HUGS NOT DRUGS--from the depths of the cramped trunk of Riku’s yellow mini cooper. It’s nothing short of miraculous that a half dozen more boxes don’t fall out in his wake.

Riku shakes his head wearily, a smile creeping onto his face, as he tries to imagine Sora having to shove all of his odds and ends into two suitcases, as Riku had before he caught his flight in from New York.  

As ready as Riku is to be out of the baking mid-morning sun and on their way, Sora’s antics and optimism brighten his mood, a mood previously fried from lugging boxes, the early hour, the heat. He chuckles softly and plops down beside Sora, though Kairi had left him with strict instructions to keep the space cadet on task.

As Sora stuffs the box’s contents into the recycle bag, Riku lifts the object he’s retrieved between two fingers and examines it in the light. It’s a chunky plastic wrist cuff, about three inches long, sporting two rows of a black and white checkerboard pattern and black edges. A little unusual, a little edgy, very obviously not Sora’s.

"Hey." Riku’s nose crinkles. “Doesn’t this belong to…”

“Wah!” Sora’s eyes widen, his grin brightens, it’s a wonder he doesn’t drop the now packed bag in his hands. Never mind. He just did. “Oh my god where did you find that thing?”

Sora seems perfectly content with Riku’s single raised eyebrow as an answer.

“It’s Ven’s lucky bracelet!” Sora elaborates, gently plucking the chunk of plastic from Riku’s fingers and wriggling it onto his own wrist.

The other eyebrow rises, and Riku sucks in his cheeks. “Oh?” he offers generously. No one has ever accused him of being Ven’s biggest fan.  

“Yeah,” Sora nods with enthusiasm, despite Riku’s blatant lack of, clenching his fist and striking a pose to show off the thing. “Remember the end of last summer, the night of the meteor shower?”

Gravity presses in again.

Sora settles back onto his butt on the concrete and stares up at the cloudless cotton candy sky as if he can still see the smatter of stars beyond.

Riku lets a hiss of air escape his throat and scoots a smidge closer to his friend. “How could I forget?”

 

There hadn’t actually been a meteor shower.

At least, not one that could be seen from the beach of Destiny Island. But that hadn’t stopped Ven and Sora from keeping Riku and Kairi out all night, necks craned, searching for shooting stars. At one point Ven and Sora chased a light from one end of the island to the other, only to see it flicker. Just an airplane.

At another point, Riku and Kairi fell asleep in a blanket of cool evening sand, her head pillowed on his chest, curled, hood up, in the sleeveless yellow, white, and black hoodie he usually lends to Sora.  

 

“When you and Kairi fell asleep, Ven and I stayed up all night talking. He really opened up about just,” Sora cocks his head in that way he does, with that dazed smile, lost in the memory, “everything, you know.”

“You had a heart to heart—with Ventus?” Riku genuinely tries to picture it.

Every summer, he’s watched Sora’s older brother grow up, hardening from sugar rush brat to cooler than thou skater punk. And while Sora insists college has calmed and mellowed him, Riku has yet to see enough evidence of it to imagine Ven spilling out his soul under the starlight.

There’s really only one logical explanation. “He must have been suffering from sleep deprivation.”

“ _Ri-_ ku.” Sora scolds, swatting at him, lip in a pout. He thinks the world of his older brothers.  

Riku smiles sheepishly, about as much of an apology as he can give in good conscience.

Sora seems to understand, picking up his story once more, “After that, I told him how nervous I was about everything that I was about to do.”

Riku doesn’t hide his skepticism as well as he thinks he does, because Sora rushes to explain, “He’s always so cool and brave, and I just…” he waves vaguely when the words won’t come. “Anyway, he gave me some advice.”

Riku sets his hand on Sora’s arm, his fingertips resting on the bronze skin just below Ven’s cuff. “I didn’t know you were nervous to go to college, Sora,” he keeps his tone light and teasing but sweet, as he brushes his thumb on the underside of Sora’s wrist. Sora glances up though Riku’s eyes are hidden behind silvery bangs, his focus on their hands. “You could have just said so.”

“It wasn’t just about college.” Sora shakes his head lightly, tousling permanently mussed brown hair, avoiding Riku’s gaze as it rises, intensifies, Sora’s mouth fixed with a dumb, tiny grin. “That was the night before I…”

Riku’s blue-green eyes wait patiently, steadily for Sora’s to find them, “You told me you loved me. That morning, at dawn.”

The sky had been red, still dotted with white pin pricks of starlight, the tide low, an endless whispering, the air too cool and sweet. Ven had finally passed out to their left, his white hoodie over half his face, and Kairi snored softly to their left, where she had rolled off Riku’s chest, one hand stretched toward them.

Riku's smile is a little smug, but Sora never seems to mind. “I told you I remembered.”

“I thought you were going to go to New York and meet a bunch of buff water polo players and sexy, bohemian artists. I thought Kairi was going to wake up and realize what an idiot I am. I was afraid everyone would forget about me.” Sora opens his eyes after a long moment and offers a chuckle and a blinding, lopsided grin. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

Riku feels an unexpected, acute pain in the center of his chest. How many times had he pictured energetic, lovable Sora moving on without him? 

_Not at all._

He stifles the feelings with an easygoing smile, “Well, I mean, I _did_ go to New York and meet bohemian water polo players and buff artists.”

This is not the reassurance Sora was expecting, judging by the cute way his mouth dips open.

“But thinking any of them would make me feel like you do?” Riku raises two fingers to tap below Sora’s chin, leveling their gaze. “Yeah,” he smirks, “maybe a little stupid.”

Riku gives this a moment to sink in, for Sora to conjure up a smile.

“As for Kairi,” Riku continues with a flippant shrug, “you’ve got me. By all accounts she should have dumped us both on our asses by now.”

Sora leans back on his palms and laughs outright.

“Must be all Ven’s sage romantic advice paying off,” Riku deadpans, leaning back as well.

“Ven told me to suck it up and tell you how I feel, you know. And then he gave me the bracelet for luck.” Sora’s not laughing anymore. He’s grown quieter, contemplative.

Riku feels a little stunned that Ven would say anything of the sort. 

“He said real friendship isn’t about proximity. It’s in your heart, and it can conquer any obstacle and cross any distance.”

Riku wonders if Ven didn’t get hit in his head with a coconut earlier that day.

“And then he said if I told anyone he said that, he would kill me in my sleep.”

Riku chokes, spine straightening as Sora chuckles.

“Now that sounds more like him,” Riku can’t help but mumble.

Sora’s begun collecting the things that have crawled from the bag he dropped, and Riku leans in to help him, their shoulders brushing together.

 

This accomplished and the bag stuffed into a narrow gap in the trunk only slightly less precarious than its predecessor, the guys sit on the bumper, fingers intertwined.

Sora sets his free elbow on his knee and his face in his hand and sighs heavily.

“It’s been a long morning,” Riku offers, flexing his fingers against Sora’s.

“Huh? Yeah…” Sora sighs again, watching a kid glide by on a scooter. Riku knows he’s mentally shifting the scooter to a skateboard and the helmet to a black and white snapback.

“What is it?” Riku pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess…” Riku raises their hands and flexes Sora’s wrist to emphasize the cuff.  

Sora chuckles, caught, and straightens his back, stretching one arm behind his head, “I’m really gonna miss him this summer. That’s all.”

Riku nods because that’s what supportive boyfriends do. Riku is sure he might miss Ven too. At some point. For like five minutes.

“I think he would have a really great time at Disney with us,” Sora continues wistfully.

 _Yeah,_ the voice in Riku’s head responds, _right after you drag him there kicking and screaming._

“Don’t worry, Sora,” Riku’s actual voice replies gently. “I’m sure we can think of something to distract you.”

“Oh?” Sora smiles, a little sadly, face flushing as Riku’s lips brush his ear and land softly in his hair just above.

Sora tilts his head, hand pressing Riku’s cheek, and brings their lips together.

 

“It’s your turn to get the coffee, Kairi. We’ll have everything packed and loaded when you get back, Kairi. We are definitely not just trying to get rid of you so we can make out in the parking lot, Kairi.”

Sora and Riku separate slowly, chagrined. They had heard her pulling her car up, Katy Perry spilling through rolled down windows. They had smelled her walking up, vanilla and strawberry perfume mingling with fresh coffee and a rich dark chocolate mocha.

“Hey, Kairi,” Sora greets with a fumbling wave.

“Hey yourself, Romeo.”

“To be fair,” Riku fixes her with a smirk, “the car _is_ loaded.”  

Kairi pauses a few feet off, her silhouette crisp against the hazy summer air. She’s dressed impeccably well for such an early morning. A french braid crowns each side of her head, pulling back into short spikes of an auburn ponytail. Her white button up blouse tucks into pink trouser shorts with tiny black polka dots--all somehow free of coffee splatters and packing dust.

“You two are awfully lucky the good Lord made you so gosh darn adorable.” Kairi has a tray of coffees balanced on her hip and a wry grin softening her narrowed blue eyes.

Sora bristles at the jabs, but Riku rolls his eyes. “Just get over here,” the latter instructs. He and Sora stretch out their free hands for her simultaneously and she feels her heart skip, her pink high tops floating her forward.

Both place a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek.

“I missed you,” Riku whispers, and he isn't talking about the past twenty minutes. Echoes of Ven’s advice to Sora still whirling, unwelcome in his brain.

_Real friendship isn’t about proximity. It’s in your heart, and it can conquer any obstacle and cross any distance._

“Yeah,” she murmurs contentedly, smile sweeter. “I know.”

 

Kairi settles between them, puffing out her cheeks to blow steam from a green tea and a mocha latte and distributing each.  

Sora’s gaze rests on the fourth slot of the coffee tray and he sighs again. _O_ _ne hot cocoa short._

Riku notes this with an eye roll. Sora doesn't do subtle. Kairi bumps her shoulder into Riku’s arm and raises her brows.

“Sora,” Riku announces, antagonistically, “has decided he will never be happy again unless Ventus goes to Disney World with us.”

Sora’s face contorts, whether because he burnt his tongue on his coffee or in reaction to Riku’s exaggeration is anyone’s guess. He raises the cup. “I just think we should have at least asked.”

Kairi nods, stirring her iced coffee and cream with her straw. “Yeah, summer’s never really the same without our little fluff ball. You might have to hold him down while I put on his mouse ears though.”   

“Well,” Riku scowls, almost spits, the tea overly bitter and the heat stinging his mouth. Kairi was supposed to take his side, dammit. “But isn’t it a little late, now?”

“Oh, sweetie, absolutely,” Kairi nods firmly, sipping at her iced coffee and continuing off-handedly, “I had to send his application in weeks ago. Good thing I didn’t wait for Sora to think of it.”

“C’mon, Kai.” Sora jostles her elbow, smiling now, if slightly hassled, “Lay off me for two seconds would ya?”

Riku has stood up to search his cropped jeans for his keys. As he pats each pocket, he can feel his mouth gaping open. If he were a cartoon character, he’s pretty sure his jaw would be dragging on the ground. “You did _what?_ ”

Sora, leans back into his luggage, reviewing her words, and then his mouth creeps open too.

“Well it wouldn’t be summer without Ven! I had to get Vanitas to impersonate him for the phone interview,” she continues pleasantly, as if this were not news but a minor update, “but somehow he still got accepted, so,” she smiles tone cheery, if not a little coy.

 

“You already invited Ven to work at Disney with us this summer,” Sora can feel himself breaking into a grin. "Kairi! You're the best!" 

“And he said yes?” Riku can feel the heat getting to him. _Maybe I should sit down again. And where are my damn keys?_

“No. First, I asked Vanitas if he wanted to work at Disney with us this summer. You know, because the five of us _never_ get to spend time together.” She eases one foot up onto the bumper and gestures with her coffee, making faces as if reliving the conversation, “And he was like ‘no’ and then I asked him every day for three weeks, because nobody says no to Kairi,” she plants a hand on her hip and accentuates this with a shake of her head, “and he was like ‘no.’ And then he was like, what’s it going to take to get me to stop asking him.”

Kairi leans forward glancing from one guy to the other, her proud smile sparkling with pink-purple lip gloss, “And then I was like, I bet you can’t convince Ven to come work at Disney World with us.”

“And Ven said yes?” Riku feels like a video on loop, repeating the same words. “To Vanitas. He said yes?”

Kairi bats her lashes, her hands clasping, managing to make the cute mannerisms look mischievous, or maybe it’s just her tone of voice, “Oh, he will.”

“But,” Sora pauses, hand reaching deep into his pocket, retrieving Riku’s keys and giving them a jangle, “how did you convince _Vanitas_ to agree to that?”

Riku is not particularly surprised about this part. Vanitas has not spent a great deal of time on Destiny Island, let alone with Kairi, but every time he’s in the same room with her, his eyes follow her. When she talks to him he looks completely forlorn. Overwhelmed. Lovestruck. None of which Riku would ever say to Vanitas, because he enjoys being alive. Thanks a lot.

Kairi spreads her leg across the bumper Riku had vacated and fans herself. “I just asked nicely, Sora.”

“You just…” Sora mouths the rest of the words as his voice fails.

Riku steps over to pluck the keys from Sora’s hands and ruffle his hair, even as something sinks in his chest. “Come on now, Sora...” he says.

_Hey, hey. You, you._

Kairi’s phone starts to vibrate. She flicks up the volume to blast the ringtone and holds up the screen.

_I don’t like your girlfriend._

The caller ID features Vanitas in a black button down, polka dotted with tiny pink hearts, tongue out, eyes yellow in the light, flipping off the camera.

_Hey, hey. You, you._

“We all know Vanitas never backs down from a challenge...”

_I think you need a new one._

“And no one says no to Kairi.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here ends the backstory. This fic series is on hiatus at the moment because I am trying to focus on "Somebodies" which I hope you'll consider taking a look at if you haven't yet. I do plan to come back to it eventually and do some (tons of) one-shots (sure, ok, jan) about their time as Disney cast members.

**Author's Note:**

> Please like and comment what you think! I love to hear what made you smile or laugh and what could use work or clarification. Also feel free to give me some prompts / ideas for when they get to Disney!


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